


_n C_rcl_s

by staticbees



Series: old friends [1]
Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, also her dialogue in game murdered me ???, but like. me too sybil me too..., hhhhhhhh, i have a lot of feelings about sybil, i wrote this a while back and finished it up super quickly, oh well, she waited for red until the process consumed her, so it's not my best piece of writing ever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:49:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticbees/pseuds/staticbees
Summary: You can feel yourself slipping, Sybil Reisz.Your memories are faded and fuzzy at the edges, like old photos, worn with time. You reach for names, faces, but all you can see is bright red, a silky flowing scarlet that blends in with the sunset, and a delicate, mournful voice. You cling to those memories with the last shred of humanity you have left, before the Process takes over completely.





	_n C_rcl_s

_ I hear you buzzing, a fly on the wall. _

 

You can feel yourself slipping, Sybil Reisz.

 

_ In through the window, and up through the hall. _

 

Your grasp on humanity is tenuous at best. The days blur into each other, and you have lost track of time, treading forward with only one purpose in mind. Finding those who have abandoned you, and making them pay. 

 

_ Flying in circles, just trying to land. _

 

Your memories are faded and fuzzy at the edges, like old photos, worn with time. You reach for names, faces, but all you can see is bright red, a silky flowing scarlet that blends in with the sunset, and a delicate, mournful voice. You cling to those memories with the last shred of humanity you have left, before the Process takes over completely. 

 

_ I see you hurting, I do what I can. _

 

You try to replicate the song, but your voice has become ragged and trembling, hindered with electronic overtones and glitching vocals processors. Your breath hitches in your throat as you struggles to get the words out, to just sing  _ one more verse. _ You have to finish the song. 

 

_ Maybe you’re looking for someone to blame. _

 

She’s coming. You  _ know _ she is. You just need to wait. Just need to stave off the Process long enough for her to get here, long enough for her to save you, long enough for you to explain why you did what you did, even though you know she doesn’t love you, never has, _ even though- _

 

_ Fighting for air while you circle the drain. _

 

You feel like you’re five years old again, a little girl drowning less than a foot beneath the surface of the ocean, water caught in your lungs, breath escaping from your mouth as you reach desperately for the surface, feel your fingertips brush the salty sea air. Your mother saved you then, you remember, gripping your wrists and pulling you out coughing into the warm, ivory sand, wrapping you in a fluffy scarlet striped towel until you stopped shivering, until your hands stopped trembling like butterfly wings and you’d blinked the water droplets from your stinging eyelashes, brushed the sand off your scraped knees. 

 

_ Never be sorry for your little time. _

 

She betrayed you, Sybil, the Process whispers. She  _ hurt _ you _.  _

 

_ No, that’s not right, I hurt her, I’m the one who- _

 

_ It's not when you get there, it's always the climb. _

 

_ 87% Processed,  _ and it hits you, like a punch to the gut. The Process is right. She’s not coming. She never was. You can’t believe you actually thought she  _ cared  _ about you.  _ Stupid little lovestruck girl _ .

 

_ But I won’t save you. _

 

_ 98% Processed. _

 

_ I won’t save you. _


End file.
